


So Never Let Me Go

by torakowalski



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-20
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-28 00:00:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6305545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torakowalski/pseuds/torakowalski
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You are a fucking useless lookout,” Grantaire tells Enjolras and then they’re off and running.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Never Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wildestranger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildestranger/gifts).



“Anyone coming?” Grantaire asks, without turning around. He gives his can a vigorous shake before adding an elaborate curl at the base of the q in Lamarque. 

“No, no one,” Enjolras says, clipped. “Hurry up.”

“You can’t hurry art,” Grantaire says then laughs, singing under his breath, “ _You just have to wait_.”

“Be quiet,” Enjolras hisses. “We’re going to get us caught.”

“Only if you fuck up lookout duty,” Grantaire says. He leans back, finishing the Vote Lamarque slogan and then getting an idea. He pulls cans of blue and red spray from his pocket and adds a tricolor cockade, a bright splash of colour on the drab wall.

“ _Grantaire_ ,” Enjolras says, pulling on his arm.

He’s right, they need to leave, but before Grantaire can do more than stash his cans, there comes the sound of running feet, someone yelling, “Oi, you there!”

“You are a fucking useless lookout,” Grantaire tells Enjolras and then they’re off and running.

They careen through the streets, which are unhelpfully empty this early in the morning. There’s more than one set of feet behind them, someone blowing a whistle.

“I really do not want to get arrested today,” Grantaire pants, as they round a corner and down a narrow passageway and get a half second break from pursuit.

“It’s not in the plan, no,” Enjolras agrees, before taking a running leap at the nearest wall.

“You’re insane!” Grantaire yells up at him, as Enjolras scrambles up to a wide, overhanging balcony, using a drainpipe and some ivy like a kid shimmying up a rope in gym class.

Enjolras falls over the edge onto the balcony and then jumps up and spins around, looking for Grantaire. Now is a really bad moment for Grantaire to remember how much he hates heights.

“R!” Enjolras says, waving at the ivy like it’s easy.

“Fucking hell,” Grantaire groans to himself then starts to climb. Maybe if he doesn’t look down, he won’t notice that he’s no longer on the ground, maybe he can just - 

His foot slips, his heart jumps into his throat, and he thinks seriously about letting go, while he’s not too high off the ground. Maybe he’d just break an ankle rather than his back.

“Up, up, up,” Enjolras snaps, as though Grantaire isn’t trying his best. Grantaire scrambles against brickwork that flakes away under the toes of his shoes, grabs at trailing ivy that bites at his palms.

Enjolras throws himself forward over the edge of the balcony, arm extended down toward Grantaire and hand outstretched.

“You’re going to fall; I’ll pull you over,” Grantaire calls up to him, refusing to take his hand.

Enjolras flexes his fingers impatiently. “Take my hand.” He sounds tense. His hair is flapping about in the wind, getting in his eyes and his mouth, but that doesn’t hide the glare in his eyes when he stares down at Grantaire.

“You’ll _fall_ ,” Grantaire repeats.

“ _You’ll_ fall, if you don’t.” Enjolras glances past Grantaire’s shoulder and his eyes go wide. “Take my hand. Right now.”

There’s a whip crack in his voice and Grantaire finds himself responding, making a grab for Enjolras’s fingers even though this is a terrible idea and they’re both going to crash down to their doom.

His palm finds Enjolras’s and then he grabs Enjolras’s wrist and Enjolras _hauls_ , pulling him up and then abruptly to the right, crunching Grantaire’s shoulder into the balcony.

“Ow,” Grantaire squawks, then cuts himself off when a sound comes through the air and something - not a bullet! he tries to tell himself rationally, while his brain screams hysterically - slaps into the wall pretty much exactly where his head was two seconds before. A bottle crashes down to earth with an unmistakable crunch.

“Fuck,” says Enjolras, sounding honestly scared and then he’s pulling and Grantaire is pushing and another bottle hits Grantaire’s ankle, but it’s all right, he’s reached the top of the balcony, Enjolras is grabbing at his shoulders and then they both fall backwards with a crash.

“Ow,” Grantaire says again, because Enjolras is softer and warm than the balcony’s stone floor but he’s not exactly comfortable to land on.

Enjolras starts to sit up, obviously remembers the angry shopkeeper shooting bottles at them and flops back down again. Grantaire only realises he’s been clutching Enjolras’s shirt, when he almost falls back down on top of him. 

“Are you hurt?” Enjolras asks, hands running over Grantaire’s shoulders, over his arms and his back.

Grantaire tries not to gasp or to move into the touch or to do anything inappropriate, really. “I’m fine,” he says, except that doesn’t seem to do a lot of good, because Enjolras is still touching him. “Enjolras, seriously, I’m fine, I’m not hurt, you… You saved me.”

Enjolras goes very still. “I risked you,” he says after a long pause. “I risked your safety.”

Grantaire blinks. “Um, yes? You do that all the time?”

“No, but.” Enjolras shakes his head. His eyes are very bright and very wide. His hands leave Grantaire’s arms and find his face again. It would be impassioned but impersonal - something Enjolras excels at - if they were standing up or in public. But they’re not. They’re alone and they’re lying down and Enjolras is cupping Grantaire’s face in shaking hands.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire asks unsteadily. 

“Why don’t you ever say no to me?” Enjolras asks, wonderingly. “You shouldn’t let me risk your life. You should say no to me.”

“No,” says Grantaire and feels Enjolras relax for a second before he understands what Grantaire meant. For clarity, because Enjolras isn’t very bright sometimes, Grantaire decides to spell it out. “No, I’ll never say no to you and you can’t make me. But that’s my choice. If I fall off a wall some day because of it, that’s not your fault.”

Enjolras flinches. 

He doesn’t say anything else and Grantaire can’t think of anything either. The inside of his head keeps telling him that leaning forward and kissing Enjolras’s slightly-parted lips would be a good use of this awkward moment, but Grantaire shuts it down.

“We should probably try to catch up with the others, soon,” is what Grantaire eventually says. 

“Not yet,” says Enjolras. “We’re safe here. We should stay a little longer.”

“You mean _I’m_ safe here,” says Grantaire, even though the idea that Enjolras is worried about him is incredibly weird.

“All right, fine, yes,” Enjolras snaps. He starts to sit up again and this time Grantaire remembers to let go of his shirt. They shift together over to the edge of the balcony, leaning against it together. 

The walls are thick and cold, no chance of being seen through them as long as they keep their heads down. Enjolras leans back against it, legs stretched out in front of himself in an uncharacteristically exhausted sprawl. 

Grantaire settles down next to him and bumps their shoulders together. “So this is fun, right? Just think, we could be having a leisurely morning coffee right now, but no. Instead, we get to stay up all night graffiting the city and then have a rooftop chase.”

Enjolras turns his head, leaning his cheek against the stone. “There was no rooftop chase,” he says.

Grantaire grins at him. “There will be, when I tell the others about it.”

Enjolras laughs softly. “You’ll give poor Joly a heart attack.”

“Eh, I’ll add some puns,” says Grantaire. “What? Why are you look at me like that?”

Enjolras is definitely looking at him very oddly. His eyes keep darting from Grantaire’s eyes to his… chin? Maybe his chin? Somewhere below his nose, anyway.

“I’m having an inclination,” Enjolras says softly. “It’s probably very stupid.”

Grantaire swallows. “You should go for it, anyway.”

Enjolras’s eyes are stuck firmly on whatever below-nose place he’s finding so fascinating, now. “What if it _is_ stupid?”

“Seriously?” Grantaire laughs. “Nothing we’ve done today has been smart. What’s one more thing?”

Enjolras seems to consider that for a minute, then he nods. He leans forward and fits his lips against Grantaire.

Grantaire sucks in a breath. He’d thought that was where this was heading, but he hadn’t still hadn’t expected it, somehow. 

Enjolras starts to pull away, but Grantaire grabs him by the front of his shirt, before he can. He holds on and then, when Enjolras doesn’t protest, reels him in and kisses him again.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] So Never Let Me Go](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12293826) by [inkjunket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkjunket/pseuds/inkjunket), [klb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/klb/pseuds/klb), [wingedwords (gunpowderandlove)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunpowderandlove/pseuds/wingedwords)




End file.
